Eventually, I dropped into Webster's dance hall and gambling parlor, as he termed it. It was the usual thing: a lot of games—chuck-a-luck, faro, dice, the wheel—all running full force, and suckers dropping their cash. At one end, a cleared space with a waxed floor, where a number of girls whirled in the embraces of heavy-booted pardners, to the accompaniment of a nearby piano, violin and banjo. The girls were a shade above the dancers in the place I'd visited previously, younger, better featured, dresses not quite so short and higher in the neck. Halfway to the ceiling a railed balcony ran three-quarters of the way around the big room, with closed doors beyond.
The noise was deafening: the music, the stamping of heavy feet on the dance floor, whirring of the wheel, click of poker chips and everybody talking at once. Cigar and cigarette stubs littered the floor, waves of tobacco smoke drifted through the room. I glanced through the room and finally spied Topaz, seated alone at a corner table. She was dressed about as I'd seen her yesterday, though the dress was of a different pattern, some sort of green and white figured material. Draped loosely about her shoulders was a white, fringed Spanish shawl. God, she was beautiful, her shining red-gold hair looking as though every hair lay in place. Sleek, was the word for it. Then I thought of Shel Webster, and I scowled. I glanced around, but didn't see anything of him; probably he was in the adjoining barroom. Not that it made any difference. He couldn't have stopped me going to her. I was like one of those big moths attracted by a shining flame.
Even before I arrived at her table, wending my way through boisterous men and dance-hall girls, I spied some rough-looking character approach Topaz. Probably asking her for a dance. Smiling, she shook her head in a way that the refusal wouldn't be resented. I heard her add something to the effect that 'Shel wouldn't like it, Stud.' Stud, whoever he was (and I was ready to swing one on his jaw), nodded understandingly and continued on his way, to be picked up by a chemical blonde. I saw them hit the dance floor when the music resumed.
A moment later I dropped into a chair across from Topaz, saying, 'Could be that Shel won't like this, either.'
She said, 'Hello, Johnny,' in that low, husky voice that did things to me. 'Would it matter much if he did?'
'Not to me, it wouldn't. But how about you?'
She shrugged nice shoulders. 'Shel doesn't completely control me, you know.'
'No, I didn't know. I'd gathered otherwise,' I said quietly. A slow flush mounted to her cheek-bones. I added, 'I'm sorry.'
'Nothing to be sorry for, if you believe in appearances. Maybe I can't blame you. Were you going to ask me to dance?'
I shook my head. 'I don't rate high as a dancer.'
'I've found no one around here who does. To tell the truth'—she smiled—'I don't think you're as bad as your reputation, either.'
'Who is?' She didn't reply. I asked her if I could get her a drink of sarsaparilla, but she refused. There was a sort of weary note in her voice, and I wondered if I were making a nuisance of myself. I said, 'If I'm bothering you, I'll shove on.'
Her long-lashed eyes widened. 'Heavens, whatever gave you that idea, Johnny? No, stay. I enjoy talking to you. My mind was wandering, I guess. I was thinking of arranging one of the rooms in my place, but uncertain what I'd do.'
'Your place?'
'Do you think I slept here? Not a chance of that, Johnny. I have a nice little house, Red-Head. Over on Emilitas Street. You know where that is?'
I shook my head, grinning. 'No, but I bet I could find it, if I had an invitation.'
'Even that might be possible,' she said carelessly. 'Sometime. It's really a nice little place. Only two rooms. Adobe, whitewashed. With a white picket fence in front and a huge old cottonwood tree. And a big lot at the back where I've planted rosebushes and carnations and—oh, a lot of plants.' She went on, telling me where Emilitas Street was located, and giving such directions as I could almost see the place before I got there—if I ever got there. I began to feel a mite wary, wondering what all this was leading to.
She glanced up suddenly, saying, 'Hello, Shel. Business looks good tonight.' Webster had arrived at the table.
I tensed, wondering how he'd take to my being with Topaz, wondering what chance I'd have against his underarm gun, if the worst came. I had half started to rise from my chair, but he put one hand on my shoulder. 'Sit easy, Cardinal. I'm just passing by.' Even so, I caught the brief scowl that flitted across his face, then he forced one of his thin-lipped smiles, saying to Topaz, 'Yes, I can't kick on the money rolling in. The bar is jammed. I had to get another barkeep to help Turk.'
Topaz said quietly, 'I think I'll leave early tonight. Things are running all right. I'll tell Doris to take over for me. Is that okay with you?'
'Anything you say, Topaz,' he replied genially. 'Not off your feed, are you?'
She shook her head. 'A bit tired, that's all.' A sort of meaningful glance passed between them. I didn't miss that, and it started me wondering.
'I'll see you in the morning then,' Webster said. He patted my shoulder. 'Enjoy yourself, Cardinal.'
'How could I do otherwise—here?'
He caught my meaning all right, and his lips tightened. Then he laughed shortly and turned away. I twisted in my chair and saw he had returned to the barroom.
I turned back to Topaz. 'Danged if he wasn't almost friendly for a minute.'
'Don't think he trusts you though, Johnny, not for a second,' she said surprisingly. 'He doesn't like you bringing some Mexican into town—Serrano, is it?' I nodded. She continued, 'He may appear to be playing along with you —but—' She broke off. 'I understand you and Shel are dickering over some matter regarding Tawney, the man who runs the Box-CT Ranch.'
'We've mentioned him a couple of times,' I said cautiously. 'What do you know about it?'
'Shel can't believe you're on the square with him, despite your talk.'
'Maybe he's smarter than I think,' I laughed. 'I don't sell my gun for peanuts.'
'Johnny, don't try to pull the wool over my eyes,' she smiled. Then abruptly changed the subject. 'I can make a fairly decent cup of coffee. I'm going home to make one now.'
'Is that an invitation?' I grinned.
'If you like,' she said carelessly.
'I like! Jeepers, how I like!' I started to rise from my chair.
Topaz said, 'Please don't follow me too closely. Give me time to leave.'
On my feet, I said 'Good-night,' and watched her while she circled the room and stopped long enough to talk a minute with one of the girls. Then she pushed through the big double-doored entrance of the gambling parlors and disappeared to the street.
I waited ten minutes that seemed like an hour, then took my departure by way of the bar, where two perspiring bartenders were serving the needs of thirsty customers. I looked around for Webster. He stood at the far end of the bar conversing with three hard-looking characters. He glanced up, saw me taking my departure and nodded pleasantly enough. Somehow, that didn't seem natural, and it got me to wondering.
On the street, I headed for Topaz's house, slowing my step a mite. I was still doing some wondering. Webster's unusually pleasant manner was making me suspicious. This whole thing could be some sort of frame-up to get me out of Webster's hair. That, of course, involved Topaz. I didn't like that thought a-tall. Regardless, I couldn't figure her as a double-crosser. Anyway, I refused to. Well, as the poet said, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The directions Topaz had given were simple to follow; I couldn't miss. I left the main drag, turned a block along one street, then turned again. There was the house all right. Whitewashed adobe, white picket fence, big cottonwood. I slowed step a moment, to look over the terrain. There were but few houses along here, all of them dark. There was a light at the back of Topaz's house, but no light shone at the front. Nor were any houses near at the rear. There wasn't too much light from the moon—too many clouds drifting overhead—but I could see the wide open space at the rear of the house where Topaz had her garden.
I pushed through a low gate in the white picket fence, closed it softly behind me, then approached the door. I didn't knock too loud, but I guessed she'd been waiting for me, as the door opened almost at once. She stood framed a moment in the doorway, filtered moonlight on her face, and my knees began to shake a little. Lord, I was tense.
